Illuminated
by secretdiary
Summary: Sequel to Blindsided. *Yeah, you heard me!* ...He knew it was her. Just what was he going to do about it?
1. Part One

Author's note: So this is kind of embarrassing. I said over and over again I wouldn't do a sequel to "Blindsided". I really like that story and the effect I managed to pull off and I didn't want to ruin it. I was certain I would never think of anything that would fit.

And then completely out of the freaking blue, to sound just like Stephanie Meyer, I had a Draco&Hermione dream, (actually in the dream it was my boss, who looks just like Mena Suvari, and Draco, but when I woke up I knew I meant Hermione! Dreams can just be a little crazy…)

Anyways… I _was_ in the middle of writing a pretty edgy fic (for me anyway) called "Everything I Need To Know I Learned at Hogwart's" when my cat spilled my cousin's (who was freeloading on my couch) beer onto my keyboard, trashing my entire laptop.

That was the _third _time I'd had a computer crap out on me in the middle of posting a story. A few weeks later my job bought me a mac anyway, but, not only was I totally discouraged and depressed by the set back, I didn't really feel like it was a good idea to write borderline porn on company property. So that poor story is totally abandoned.

Meanwhile, I've got this dream, this broken ankle, and my Fiancé's neglected Toshiba….

I kind of sort of maybe wrote a sequel….

I know it's probably years too late for anyone who liked it and wanted more to still be around to read it, but if you're out there maybe you'll take a look for me? I'm super nervous about it and need some honesty.

There's no Voldemort, no epic battle, in my world Rowling didn't murderer everyone who mattered to me (not that they're even in this story…) Draco never tried to kill anyone, Harry never dropped out… You'll have to do a lot of pretending, a lot of ignoring canon. Let' just say they all go on to 7th year in the way we all so innocently imagined they would when we were at chapter 8 of book 1, before all hell broke loose, mmk?

Oh yeah… it was just going to be another oneshot, but as always, it ended up about 50 times long than I anticipated, so I think I'll break it into 3 parts.

Oh, AND, it will be smutty. Just a warning.

Ok. So here we go… please let me know what you think.

… … …

**Illuminate: (verb)**

**1. To supply or brighten with light; light up. **

**2. To make clear; throw light on (a subject)**

**3. To enlighten, as with knowledge. **

… … …

A long, nervous groan came rumbling involuntarily from Hermione's throat. Had she not been completely alone in the cold, dim halls of Hogwart's dungeons surely passersby would've turned their heads to see what was wrong with her. Thank goodness it was too late for students to be up and about, but, nevertheless, her panicked eyes darted around, desperate to make sure she was in fact still alone.

She was a tightly wound bundle of nerves. The Head Girl badge that was so ceremoniously pinned to her robes less than an hour before was burning a hole in her already lead chest. But the recent downpour of new responsibilities and assignments were the least of her problems.

She was utterly consumed with worry that by stalling at the entrance of the Potion Master's office she was just _begging_ for an encounter with _him_. This was_ his_ turf after all, and she could not bear to run into him right now, not when she was about to ask the second biggest gnome in her garden for a ridiculous favor.

It wasn't that she was afraid! She was convinced she was more than prepared to handle that little git. She painstakingly rehearsed for days, weeks even, exactly what she would say when she saw him again, as certain she would, him being head boy and all.

She _had_ to clear the air, regain her dignity and warrant him to respect her as Head Girl. They had to supervise the student body together after all! But, seeing how she froze like solid ice just making a completely regrettable millisecond of _eye contact _with him at the welcoming feast ("He was just so shamelessly _staring_ at me!" she recalled with a shiver, his god damn smirk clearly visible from across the hall burned into her retinas) she was just _a tad bit _discouraged with her ability to speak _actual_ words to him…

"Enough!" she hissed to herself, growing more nervous with each passing second she wasted standing there in the Devil's territory and ruffling the lengthy roll of parchment in her hand, trying to refocus her eyes.

She was staring at the application for the Ministry of Magic's Internship at the Department of Misinformation. Needless to say it was an honor to even receive an opportunity to apply; only the top students from the three leading Wizarding Academies were invited to.

When she finally conveyed to her parents that it was equivalent to, if not more prestigious than, a Rhodes Scholarship to Oxford, they're pride and excitement only added to her own elation. The Department of Misinformation, in charge of dealing with (and often befuddling) muggles when the Statute of Secrecy was breached, collaborated with _every _other department. Especially with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures… or, what she would have it renamed by the time she was thirty, "Department of Magical Creature Relations". She would use this internship as a jumping off point to take over magical creature relationships for the Ministry.

But she was getting dangerously too far ahead of herself. She didn't have the internship _yet_. First and foremost she had to be certain she could acquire every piece of criteria needed for her application to be complete: the grade point average and test scores, the essay, and most importantly; letters of recommendation. Letters not only from a ministry official, but all _four _heads of house.

Arthur Weasley, newly appointed Co-director of the Muggle Liaison Office (on top of running the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office), nearly fell all over himself with pride when she asked him to be her Ministry Official at the train station. She was honored to learn at the welcome feast that McGonagall had already written hers for her 6th year, unsurprised when Sprout agreed most graciously and kindly and relieved when Flitwick, who had always been a little sore she wasn't sorted into his house, simply asked if there was a requirement on the number of scrolls. Not a bad bout of hobnobbing for only the first night back!

And yet, it didn't seem like the accomplishment it should considering who was left… Snape.

She inhaled deeply, "Best get this over with," she thought, "before Malfoy shows up," she added, ignoring the rush that fired through her body at the thought of his name and knocked deftly on the thick, oak door.

"Important I presume? Given the hour?" came a drawling, deep voice, already rich with sarcasm.

Desperate to relieve herself from her current anxiety, she boldly opened the door and without specific permission, entered, praying he'd let her skip over his tedious battle of wits and let her get straight to the point.

Sitting in what was probably once a handsome armchair, his eyes looked up from his scroll. If he was impressed by her boldness it was hidden in a flash and masked with unquestionable boredom.

"Professor Snape, I apologize about the time, but the business I'm here inquiring about involves a deadline-"

"Is it safe to assume you understand the embarrassment I would endure should you not earn an O in N.E.W.T. Potions this year after having written you a letter of recommendation?" he asked, his eyes back on his scroll and showing no sign of leaving again.

"I-" she stuttered, surprised he was already aware of her intentions, "Of course," she recovered, "…I received an O on my O.W.L. 5th year" she added, bitterness cloaking the hurt of his implications.

"Indeed, you did manage an O," he replied, not even pretending to give her full attention, "…most narrowly…"

Hermione did not know what to say, dread clutched her throat. An O was an O damn it, who cares if she was on the cusp? And was he really not going to recommend her for a grade he didn't even know she earned yet?

The suspense was killing her. Whether or not she got the internship could very well be in his cold, heartless hands, but she couldn't think of one single thing to say that would impress the one teacher who had always been simply unimpressed with her. He already knew why she was there, was it possible he already knew he was going to say no?

"Professor Snape?" spoke a deep voice behind her.

Hermione jumped. She did not notice the Bloody Baron enter his office.

"Yes Bruce?" asked Snape, indicating a combination of superiority and mutual respect.

"The common room, Professor."

Snape appeared not to need to hear anything more. "Thank you, Bruce."

And the Baron glided away as silently as he came.

Snape took a long, slow sip of his tea, leaving Hermione standing there foolishly, trying to get her heart rate to slow.

Finally with a sigh he said," See to my house, Ms. Granger, be a Head Girl I would honestly recommend, and I can write you your letter."

Hermione was uncharacteristically slow to catch on, "…_Your_ house?" she repeated in disbelief.

"Yes," he confirmed condescendingly, reluctantly granting her another look up from his reading, "Sometimes they have trouble finding their beds."

Mouthy, insufferable brats, the whole lot of them!

It was over an hour since lights out and yet every single Slytherin appeared to be awake. The room was total chaos. She found herself standing on an ottoman, waving her arms about like a mad Maestro, screaming the older students to order, who were encouraging and goading on the 1st years, while simultaneously trying to get said 1st years down from the ceiling of which they were floating.

"Ridiculous," she muttered, charming the students down with her wand, "Unheard of!"

Half the crowd booed as she returned them to their feet one by one, the other half ignoring her efforts and still laughing at those left levitated.

"You there," she shouted to one she just rescued, "What is your name?"

But the small boy with a triangular face just giggled bubbly at her, making no explanation.

"What is this nonsense?" she exasperated. She could not fathom their boldfaced insubordination, especially in 1st years, Slytherin or not!

And as if in answer to her bafflement, a high buzzing flew by her ear.

Hermione stunned and accioed the insect and studied it in her palm.

"Billywig?!" she gaped. "You're all high off of Billywig stings? What are you idiots thinking!? The effects have the potential to never wear off!"

"Oh don't be such a killjoy, it's the first night back" barked Blaise Zabinni, "You almost make me feel bad for Gryffindors, what with such a square for a Head."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, "I'm not just the Head of Gryffindor," she seethed, "I'm Head of the whole school, and if you don't all settle down right now and go to bed you're all going to get detention for possession of banned items!"

"That's not fair!" cried the triangular faced boy, his toothy grin mismatching the sound of fear in his voice, "A head gave them to us!"

"I did no such thing!" cried Hermione.

"Of course _you_ didn't" droned Blaise, "Draco did."

"Draco?! Well of course," she muttered at her own bad luck, "_Of course_ he gave them to you."

"He didn't _give_ them to us," hiccupped the boy, the giddy effects of the Billywig sting wearing off and leaving a dopey looking expression, "He traded them for a flask of whiskey."

"Bloody marvelous," she groaned, zapping the last student down with a thump, her annoyance and disapproval gargantuan.

… … …

She was exhausted as she walked back to the library, where her own private dormitory was to be located.

"Brown leather book, top shelf, Dragon-hide book, 2nd shelf, green leather book, top shelf again, twice…" she murmured to herself, hoping she memorized the combination to her stairwell accurately.

Perhaps after the insane work load and impossible curriculum, this was the one kind courtesy the teachers bestowed on the Head Boy and Girl; rooms hidden in the library, easy access to study materials. Earlier she had the ridiculous thought that she'd be able to get an hour or so of reading done before heading to bed. She would've laughed at her naivety if she wasn't still so sour.

"This is going to be worse than I thought," she grumbled, still trying to digest that Malfoy was going to be as cliché as winning over his students with dangerous treats and encouraging a laxness with alcohol by his example. "Of course he'd go for popularity over genuine respect…" How was she supposed to do her job if he didn't do his?

Hermione stopped at a row of books, "Maybe just one…" she thought, "To get my mind off things so I can sleep…"

Her eyes darted over to the northwest corner of the library. If the entrance to her room was in the northeast corner, she wondered if his was over there…

She remembered embarrassingly that over the summer holiday she asked Percy Weasley if the rumors were true about the rooms being joined by a co-ed washroom and as annoying as his pretentious snort could be ("Of course not! How preposterous! That would be _most_ indecent…") she was extremely relieved.

She gave a soft laugh at her own gullibility, and decided that she must have been only a few, but lucky, steps behind Draco all evening to not have run into him in the dungeons, but that he surely must be in bed by now and she could take a few moments to find a good, credible book on the history of the Ministry of Magic ("Better to know all I can about where I'll be working…") and hung a left down the row.

He appeared at the end of the aisle just as soon as she walked down it, palming both bookshelves with his arms-width. Casually, yet effectively, blocking her in.

The second his blond headed, tie-loosened, untucked shirt wearing, silver eyed self appeared in her vision Hermione felt paralyzed.

Draco merely smirked, his steely eyes boring into hers.

A thick book fell out of her lifeless fingers, clattering noisily on the ground, but they both ignored it.

"M-m-malfoy," she stuttered, then bit her lips together. She would _not_ continue until she could speak steadily. She closed her eyes and took in a long deep breath. She cleared her throat and began again.

"I'm glad I've run into you," she lied, "I would like to talk to you…"

Malfoy looked unsurprised, unmoved, unchanged. If anything the corner of his smirk only smirked higher.

There was going to be no elephant in the room. She wasn't about to let him make her feel embarrassed and awkward all year! Surely he would see that she meant business if she attacked things head on.

"I want to officially and sincerely apologize for the unfortunate events that transpired last year…"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

That was fine with her, because she was already sputtering on, "It was inappropriate, immature and a complete violation of your rights…"

Malfoy took a silent, smooth step towards her. Instinctively Hermione took a step backward.

"I… I regret my decision to participate in such childish games," she stammered, fear clutching her stomach, his ambiguity, his smug smile, disturbing her greatly, "and for any damages or inconveniences you suffered…"

Unaffected, Draco continued with his slow methodical steps toward her, she in turn slowly walked backwards as if in some bizarre choreographed dance. Her throat was thick and heavy, so much for coming off natural and confident… What was he doing? Was he going to slap her? Jinx her? It occurred to her fleetingly that none of the Slytherins she just reprimanded said anything about the little incident they had together, did they not know about it? Was he going to blackmail her with the information?

After gulping for air she continued to try and finish, desperate to show him the whole ordeal did not concern her beyond the point of working side by side indifferently, "I can promise you, you need not worry about any such unnecessary trouble for me again, I plan to forget all about it and put forth-"

At this point Hermione found herself backed into the wall at the end of the aisle, nowhere else to go. As if from the autopilot of shock, she feebly continued despite Draco looming ever nearer, "-put forth my best effort as a Head Girl of this school and hope that you'll be-be ab-able to do the, the, the…"

His body was inches from hers; she could feel power radiating off him. He had scrutinizing eyes and an amused smile that she could not decipher…

"…S-same…" she whispered.

He was looking right into her face when he finally spoke, "Shut up."

Then she was pinned between him and the wall, one of his hands on the small of her back, the other cradling the back of her head. Their kiss burned with heat and smothered against her lips. The humming bird that had been trapped in her chest finally flew away and she melted into his support.

She parted her lips and savored the taste of him as he kneaded her tongue with his. He pulled her tighter into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening their kiss and inhaled his rich, delicious scent.

"Mmmm…" he moaned, "I missed you, Granger."

The irony of that statement snapped Hermione back into reality.

"Stop," she proclaimed, slipping her hands between their bodies and pushing him away. "Get away from me!"

Draco sighed as if bored, "Yes, yes, I know, you're the prissy little goodie good and I'm the big, bad boy… could we please skip all that tonight? And just get to where we both know this is going to end up? I thought this summer was bad enough, but ever since seeing you announced at dinner this evening I've been going mad!" and he reached out to pull her into him again.

"What?" she puzzled, blocking his hands, "Tonight? We both know?" she repeated incredulously, "I think there's been a misunderstanding Malfoy-"

He groaned impatiently, but then spoke playfully, "Listen, I'll lay off trying to shag you until you're ready to descend gracefully, alright? Let's just pick up where we left off and see where we can go from there okay?"

He engulfed her before she could block him again and had her lips captured once more. But she hurriedly wiggled free before she got swept away in the undertow of his power.

"No you listen," she demanded, "You've lost all respect for me, I understand that… that's my fault, I realize that. I take full responsibility. I acted like a slut and now, well, now you think I am one. But I can't allow it to continue. I'm not a bloody buffet table! What happened last year was a mistake, and like I said, I plan on forgetting all about it. You need to too. And if you don't, well then, I could care less. Tell whoever you want, I don't care! No one would believe you anyway!"

Draco glowered at her, still clutching her to his chest, "Hmm, you kind of tremble when you lie," he observed, "People knowing is the last thing you want."

Hermione was lost for words, flabbergasted and unnerved by his ability to read her so accurately.

"But no matter," he went on, "I don't care to tell anyone. I just want you. And I want you to quit pretending you don't want me."

His tongue was in her mouth again, and electricity coursed through her body, tantalizing and tingly. She broke away with a strained gasp, "But I don't want you!" she insisted.

Draco chuckled at her, "Then why are you blushing so beautifully?" he asked as he stroked her face, "and why are your lips so swollen?" he traced them with his fingertips, "and why…" he leaned to whisper huskily in her ear, "can I feel how hard your nipples are through your blouse?"

Severe stirring occurred low in Hermione's body at his shocking and graphic words.

"Just like last time…" he recalled happily.

"Last time was a joke Malfoy," she insisted pitifully, "I was dared to kiss you!"

"Ah, but you did more than just kiss me Granger, and you had just as much fun as I did," he pointed out as he glided his lips along her jaw line.

Fearing another crippling kiss she pushed against him, "Think whatever you may Malfoy, fun or not it's over! You're awful and I can't stand you!"

Draco turned stony, but unsurprised. Calm even.

"You're certain?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"That's how you really feel?"

Hermione scrutinized him, "…Yes."

He gave a curt nod, "Very well then," he responded. And then he spun her around and dipped her, as if they were dancing.

It was so unexpected Hermione almost laughed, but then something was at her lips and warm wetness sprinkled into her mouth. She shook her head and sputtered, but it was no use, liquid had rolled to the back of her throat.

Draco released her and she cowered in defense, lowering herself to her hands and knees, wiping her mouth and choking. She had swallowed some of whatever the hell he had given her and her throat felt warm and her chest tingly.

"What the hell, Malfoy?!" she cried, trying to wipe away the substance that had dribbled onto her neck, "What was that?"

"Love potion," he answered with a smile, "My own special recipe. Just a drop will do."

"You-!" she snarled.

"Here's the thing Granger," he cut her off, silencing her with severe look, "What happened between us, what you did to me… I haven't been the same since I figured out it was you."

"It's not just that I've become obsessed with fucking you…Well that is a big part of it," he stopped to smirk, "but there's more to it than that," he went on, turning intense, almost angry.

"I've thought about you in the dirtiest ways every _single_ day since we parted. You have taken over my mind. I feel absolutely insane. You've bewitched me. You've robbed me of my self-control. And you know what it's become? It's become an obsession over _everything_ about you. The marks you earn, the tie-knot you chose, your ridiculous honesty, the way you raise your hand so pin-fucking-straight in class, how all your little friends turn to you for _everything_, that you put sugar in your tea until the bloody spoon stands up, the way your eyes look like the ones drawn on the damn deer in those cutesy muggle cartoons, and god damn it, your bloody gorgeous hair," he exasperated, reaching down to stroke a lock of her curls.

She flinched away, utterly confused about all she just heard, "_…Deer?!_" was the only word she could manage.

"The fucking baby deer with the dead mom and skunks and birdies," he cried, obviously working himself up over what he was trying to tell her, "You know, big and brown with the long thick lashes and the stupid blinking…The way you're looking at me right-fucking-now with all that innocence and surprise."

"_The thing is_," he said again earnestly, "is that I…" he trailed off, "I am quite fond of you," he finished in a hush.

She gaped at him in disbelief.

"And that is _not_ a sentiment I solicit lightly. But you, my dear, are just so… You're just _so _smart, and bold, and beautiful… and whimsical and strong and passionate and loyal… and, and… and _you_ are going to fancy me the way I fancy you."

Hermione felt a very different kind of nervous than she had been feeling all night.

After a brief pause to catch his breath, Draco appeared to regain his usual cool and cocky composure, "You'll think of my constantly," he vowed, a flare in his eyes, "you'll lust for me mercilessly and you'll desperately need to be near me. Every day it will grow stronger and stronger. I will haunt you the way you've haunted me. You will repay me every second you took. And the more you fight it, the more it will intensify."

Hermione couldn't quite believe she wasn't dreaming. She blinked. Studied him intently. Then laughed.

"Ha!" she scoffed, "This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard of. There are only so many herbs that conjure infatuation, only so many salts that create lust. Love potions are a joke Malfoy, why do you think no one uses them anymore? Half of them wear off once the person knows they're on one anyway. You think I can't figure out your little concoction? Counter this? There are antidotes. A little research, a little work, and it's nothing."

Draco just continued with his usual smirk, "I'm not so sure," he challenged, "Brilliant as you are, this one is unique, if I do say so myself."

Hermione finally had enough sense to stand up and brush herself off.

"We'll see about that," she replied.

"Yes," he agreed, "We will. Sweet dreams Granger."

… … …


	2. Part Two

Author's note: This is part two of three, please let me know what you think!

Also, I don't have a beta so unluckily for you I "edited" myself (and by edit I mean read hastily before typing this note and slapping it online). You deserve better but I feel bad about how long it's taken to update, maybe someone will edit it for me later… Sorry again!

… … …

The sharp nudge from Ron's elbow jolted Hermione awake.

"You okay?" he mouthed silently.

He had never seen Hermione doze off in the middle of class before. That was because she never had. When she had finally managed to quit tossing and turning, furious over Malfoy's actions and having no one to turn to for help, she fell into a night of feverish dreams; vivid and lifelike.

She relived the last night of her 6th year and woke up panting, her body tingling where Draco's lips and fingertips had been. Even now, thinking of the dream, her cheeks blushed scarlet, but she _insisted_ to herself the dream was just a coincidence. It only occurred because she had been thinking about how much she regretted it, it had been on her mind is all... Certainly not because she was under the influence of magic… She wasn't worried Draco's little potion would actually affect her, whatever it was. No potion, classic or newly invented, could mask such a deep, fundamental dislike.

"I'm fine," she whispered to Ron as she put on her gardening gloves like the rest of the class while Professor Sprout passed out the Plangentines.

Hermione looked over to the Slytherins and of course, he was staring right at her.

She flooded with anger. He didn't even need to be in this class! Heads were given independent studies and only needed to attend lectures whenever they saw the need. She was certain he was only there because she was, and she was only there to help Ron and Harry… and maybe… to smuggle out certain plants. Not that she believed Draco's concoction was doing anything! She really didn't… but she'd take some cleansing herbs all the same. Just in case. Besides, she needed to catch up on some rest.

Terribly self-conscious of the bags under her eyes, she was determined not to give him the satisfaction of looking over at him again. It was sickening just to think he might give himself credit for her sleepless night. Why, then, she kept trying to peer over to his table through the corner of her eye, she didn't know.

"Hermione?" said Ron, possibly for the second time.

"What?" she responded, snapping back.

"Well…" he delved impatiently, "are you going to help or what?"

Hermione was in no mood to be scolded, "Honestly Ronald, just slice it into quarters, it's not that hard…"

If Ron scowled at her she didn't notice. She gave a sideways glance to the other side of the room and saw "Puggy" Parkinson sit in the seat next to Draco, smiling at him. He returned her greeting with wry smile.

The smile felt like it punched her in the gut.

Recomposing herself as quickly as she could, she looked back down at her work station, fuming.

"_No!"_ she thought, "_No! I don't bloody care!"_ she tried to remind herself, "Ron!" she growled, desperate for distraction, "Don't pierce the pit!" she snapped at him.

"I'm not," he insisted.

"You're going to, don't be so careless."

"It's a thick rind, Hermione," he said defensively, "I'm being careful, it just doesn't slice straight…"

Looking back over, she saw Pansy giggling and pushing Draco playfully on the shoulder.

What a stupid slut!

"Oh give it here," she barked rudely, grabbing the pruning knife from Ron.

"Fine!" he uttered.

Glancing back and forth between the Plangetine and Draco's station, she positioned the knife…

"Easy, Hermione…" Harry said cautiously.

"I think I know what I am doing" she spat, and then she was positive she saw Pansy casually sneak her hand onto Draco's knee under the table.

" 'Mione, NO!" Ron and Harry screamed in unison as the knife went crushing through the fruit, nicking the pit and thick, purple, ink-like juice exploded in the twos face's.

… … …

With her friends still too mad to speak to her, she spent the rest of the day in her room, drinking all the teas she knew or inhaling any smoke fumes she knew to be detoxifying... And yet still, every time she envisioned Pansy's hand she wished for the pruning knife all over again…

She was moronically yet genuinely jealous, despite all her good sense and will power.

"No, no, no!" she insisted, "It's just the power of suggestion! I'm _fine_!" Her detox just needed a little time to work so it seemed…

Deciding she needed some fresh air outside her now ridiculously steamy and smoky room, she gathered an armful of books and headed to her favorite table by the fireplace.

She turned the corner and as soon as she saw Draco already there her insides clenched.

He gave her the warmest, happiest smile.

"Good evening, lover."

After whatever lightheadedness passed (definitely not a swoon!), she managed an eye roll.

"Still fighting it eh?" he asked.

"There is nothing to fight, Malfoy," she gritted through her teeth.

"Then please," he gestured, smirking, "Don't mind me. Have a seat. Do your homework."

Oh no. She was terrified of what she might feel –_be confused into thinking_ she might feel- if she got any closer to him. But clearly, that's what he was hoping.

"_I've got to show him he doesn't bother me in the slightest! Then he'll grow tired of this nonsense and leave me the hell alone!"_

She girded herself and took the chair next to him. There. Take that.

Draco smiled even more sweetly at her. Like his smirk, but softer. A crooked, half smile. She gave him her best smile back and opened her book.

"I wish you were my homework," Draco remarked matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me?" Hermione questioned.

"You know, so I could slam you on my desk and do you all night long."

Hermione's breath was stolen out of her chest and she pressed her thighs tightly together. He was watching her intently, his damn beautiful eyes sparkling. She closed her eyes tightly and counted to ten.

"Seriously?" she whined once her voice was back, "If that wasn't the cheesiest thing I've ever…"

Draco laughed, and it was such a great sound, "Isn't it though? I found a dreadfully awful book of pickup lines in muggle London. Thought I'd try to meet a simple muggleborn like you on your level."

"You know what," she said coldly, slamming her heavy volume closed, "I think I'll get more work done elsewhere."

"Hate to say goodbye, but love to watch you go," he catcalled as she stormed away.

Hermione groaned, and covered her behind with her book-bag as hastened her route to the exit, "Those are just _awful_!" she cried as the sound of his laughter faded away.

She was beating a path through the castle, flustered and disturbed, "Just what the hell is his game? He expects me to believe he "_fancies_" me," she mocked, "when he's flirting with other girls and calling me Mudblood…"

"_No, not Mudblood,"_ a quiet voice in her head corrected, "_He just mentioned you were muggleborn. No crime in that."_

"_Bloody hell, now I'm defending him?"_ she thought, stopping in her tracks.

How did she end up by the dungeons? The potions classroom filled her mind's eye. She knew what she was going to do. She had access as Head Girl after all… she made her way to the storage closet.

It was time to face it. Whatever the hell he had come up with, whatever he weaseled down her throat, some of it was getting to her. Elements of concentration breakers, she couldn't focus, stimulants, she had restless, fevered dreams, and… aphrodisiacs, she was… lusty… for him. Detoxifying obviously didn't clear her system; she would have to counter these elements one by one.

She knew he had a talent for potions, but she never wanted to believe he was this good. She _had_ to be better.

… … …

"Bloody fucking hell…" she muttered very quietly to herself, still not able to reach a book on the highest shelf, despite climbing the first two.

"Tsk, tsk, Granger, such language," spoke Draco.

She gasped with surprise, his sudden appearance in over a day scaring her. Because seeing him in her dreams did _not _count, no matter how real he seemed!

"Don't mind me, just admiring the view," he simpered, tilting his head slightly and peering upwards.

She immediately hopped down. "Merlin, looking up my skirt? Really? First a love potion, then your ridiculous lines, now this. Could you be more cliché?" she uttered indignantly.

Draco sneered at her, "I'm not cliché, I'm _classic_."

Hermione just sneered back, suddenly too tongue tied to rebuff.

"…Besides, we can't all be as diabolically original as you," he teased, "Blinding people. Genius!"

Hermione gritted her teeth, if he saw how much he could rile her up he would know his potion was working, "Sod off Malfoy can't you see I'm busy with…I was just," she flustered, "I'm in the middle of…" She couldn't believe it. She forgot what she was doing.

Draco pointed his wand and with a simple "accio" the book she had just been trying to reach zoomed into his hand. He presented it to her politely, "Old muggle habits die hard, don't they?"

Hermione snatched the book out of his hand and smiled balefully, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said sweetly, "Any luck?"

Damn it, he knew she was looking for antidotal compounds.

She couldn't help but notice he was a little sweaty and magnificently flushed, his muscles inflated and glistening, with a few smears of dirt here and there. Quidditch no doubt. The pheromones radiating off his testosterone filled body were intoxicating…

"Need a break?" he whispered, "I'm about to take a _long_, _hot_ shower. You could join me."

Hermione felt a shameful surge of heat in her loins as she imagined water cascading down his perfect naked form.

"I think I'll pass," she squeaked.

"A rain check then?" he winked.

"Certainly, how about the 12th of never?"

"_Hoohoo_," he laughed, "Now who's cliché?"

… … …

Hermione eventually took her own shower. An ice cold one. Her book on love potions was of no use to her, and the heat Draco ignited within her by his invitation never went away. After a night of reluctantly pleasuring herself she ran to her bathroom first thing in the morning, furious at her behavior.

Touching herself was not something she did often. And never before had she felt possessed to do so with such enthusiasm. But she had never needed the illusion of a man so badly! She had been determined to make the man she thought about not matter, just focusing on the need _any _man could fulfill. A figure, the shape of a man, nameless and faceless, would more than suffice. But her imaginary friend kept tossing back his blond hair or staring into her with silver eyes…

She seethed as the frosty water hit her, determined to douse the forest fire of self-destruction going on inside her.

School work was the biggest struggle it had ever been, not because the material was too difficult for her to comprehend, but because for the first time she found it impossible to stay focused! She managed to make up with Harry and Ron over the Herbology fiasco but even when hanging out with them in her old Gryffindor common room, far, far away from _him_ he still seemed right beside her always, calling to her like a siren.

With friends failing as a help she trudged back to the library. After investigating some chatter so late in the evening she stumbled upon a legitimate study group.

Hermione's shoulders sank as she realized one more daunting thing she had on her plate. She was supposed to pick a subject and offer a study group as Head Girl. She had thought vaguely she would post signs for Ancient Runes but had been so busy and distracted she hadn't gotten around to it. Not that she was at all prepared with any tips; she certainly didn't want to lead any students astray or waste their time! But these Third and Fourth years were hanging on _every word_ their tutor said.

They trusted Draco's advice and instruction implicitly. And it was easy to see why; his potion was the exact neon yellow that it should be and his bat spleens were carefully diced into perfect, _perfect_ cubes. Of course it took extra time, only a connoisseur would bother.

"For even, homogeneous dissolving" he explained. His students all nodded and quickly made notes.

"And, here, look closely," he said holding a dandelion root up to the light, "You see those fuzzy little hairs it's sprouted? This one is passed its prime. _Always _use ingredients at their peak for max effectiveness. Look up their distinguishing marks in the index.

"Never use ingredients stored in formaldehyde if you can help it," he admonished, "a real brewer always uses phenoxyethanol when he can…"

Hermione sighed dreamily. She didn't know that. He was so smart! And such a good teacher… His potion turned from neon yellow to bright lime green as he added the last two ingredients; he effortlessly turned three_ exact_ clockwise stirs and there it was, a perfect Wiggenweld potion.

"_He is so unbelievably good at potions_" she admired with a smile. It was then Draco looked up and noticed her in the back of his small gathered crowd. He smiled broadly at her, and her entire body felt warm and melty and suddenly she wished everyone else in the room was gone, that she was right up there next to him, receiving a private lesson. That they could be face to face when he smiled at her, nose to nose… Then mouth to mouth…

And then, horror slowly crept up her spine.

"_You'll think of my constantly…"_

"_You'll lust for me mercilessly…."_

"_And you'll desperately need to be near me..."_

His promise echoed throughout her limbs. This was no amateur potion maker she was dealing with; he knew what he was doing.

"_I've thought about you every single day since we parted…"_

He had all summer to work it out.

"_Every day it will grow stronger and stronger_."

Hermione closed her eyes tightly and tried to take a breath.

"_I will haunt you the way you've haunted me..."_

He gave her something the wizarding world had never seen before. It was time to get serious; she needed to get ahead of this thing before it was too late.

… … …

She tried to avoid him for a horrific downward spiral of two days.

… … …

"Enough!" she screamed upon seeing him, finally tracking him down late in the evening in the deserted hall outside of McGonagall's classroom, "What's the antidote?!"

Draco smiled, "Well underway to worshiping the ground I walk on, are we?"

"I'm not joking Malfoy, I've been brewing all day, I've tried _everything_ I know, _everything_ that I've found, nothing helps! This isn't funny anymore!"

"Of course it's not funny," Draco said, his smile dropping, "It's never been funny, betraying yourself. The insanity, the stupidity, the humiliation of wanting someone you can't have. Completely forgetting about anything that used to matter for something so farfetched and impossible."

Hermione did not want to hear such things, things she didn't want to accept her understood, "What's the antidote?" she repeated.

"Indulgence," he quipped.

A wave of arousal washed over her. Since when was "indulgence" such an erotic word? It was the damn way he pronounced it! His tongue on his teeth as he lingered on the "L".

"How can you do this?" she demanded to know, "It's sick, you're completely perverted!"

"Oh that's rich, coming from someone who attacks the unsuspecting and then has their way with them," he responded matter-of-factly.

Hermione gaped at him, but had no rebuttal. Technically the bastard was right.

"Draco," she managed to plead, not able to play his games anymore, "I can't think straight, I haven't been able to get any work done. I have important things I really need to concentrate on," she spilled, thinking painfully of her incomplete internship application and completely untouched independent studies, "Flitwick expects my first essay by the end of this week. Please, I need it to stop."

"Yes, you _need_it to stop," he agreed, "but you don't really _want_ it to. You haven't felt nearly as alive all day as you do right now talking to me. I know exactly how you feel, Granger. But there is good news. Soon, your disgust with your lack of self-control goes away, you grow numb to the fear of how others would react. The absurdity, the nonsense of it all suddenly won't matter anymore. You won't care. There will be nothing but me. Trust me Granger, it's _so_ much easier when you just accept it."

Part of Hermione wanted to charge right at him, pound her fist on his chest, call him every name in the book. Maybe punch him in the bloody face again. But the other part… just swooned at every subtle movement of his lips when he spoke.

It did not make sense that it had only been a few days, not with the lifetime of counter magic she had attempted. She was so tired, tired of clenching her shivering muscles to be still, of planting her feet firmly on the ground when she felt like a feather could knock her over, of scolding her own thoughts like they were naughty children… Nothing screamed sweet release like his mouth.

For a long, silent moment they just stared at each other stubbornly.

That pesky word, _indulgence_, echoed in her mind over and over again, and reluctantly she toyed with the idea that he just might be right… that maybe releasing all of the tormenting pressure building up inside her just might grant her the relief she was so desperately searching for… let her get her focus back, let her get some work done… a temporary antidote, just until she could find a real one… yes, that was all.

Unable to control it, she remembered the feel of his fingers inside her, beckoning her to the edge of explosion, relinquishing her of all tension, of all worry, freeing her from every physical imprisonment and blowing her mind into clearness.

She had done it before, had she not?

Could she do it again? Could she knowingly and willingly hook up with Draco Malfoy?

"…In that twisted, insane head of yours Malfoy," she began slowly, "just how did you see this working?"

"Why must you assume everything is so complex, Granger?" he goaded, "It works by us just doing what comes so naturally, so easily…"

Unsure of how, they were inches apart again, and Hermione breathed in the rich scent of him.

"…What about our friends?" she whispered.

"What about them?"

"Well what if they find out?"

Draco shrugged, smiling softly as Hermione seemed powerless, leaning closer and closer into him, "We can make sure they don't if it bothers you that much."

"It doesn't bother you?" she asked.

"At this point, no," he answered, "but it can be our little secret, only we have to know…" he said softly, reassuringly.

And Hermione damn well believed him, as far as she was concerned the hallway disappeared with the sound of his voice, and they were the only two people who existed in the entire universe.

Her lips were yearning towards his as she imagined, happily this time, since it would actually come to pass, the moment their mouths would blend together as one, and she could hold his face in her hands as she press her body into his…

She was raising her hands to do just as she fantasized, Draco staring hungrily at her, when she heard the deep, insincere words, "Oh good, two birds with one stone."

The hall had not disappeared. And they were certainly not the only two people in the universe. Faster than lightening Hermione's hands were back at her side and she turned to see Professor Snape, white as a sheet.

He was eyeing them suspiciously.

"Just had a question for McGonagall," said Draco nonchalantly.

Snape must have decided he didn't care and reached into the breast pocket of his robes, then one in each hand, presented both of them with envelopes. He gave both of them a short nod that seemed to say "There, now leave me be!" and briskly walked away.

"_Hoohoo_," Draco chortled once they were alone again, "that was close, maybe we should take this back to my room," he finished huskily.

"What's that?" said Hermione, cold and severe, their near miss already forgotten in the light of a new horror.

"A letter," he answered frankly.

Her stomach dropped to the floor, "The internship at the D.O.M.?" she whispered hollowly.

"Yes…" he said hesitantly, "Merlin, Granger did you think you were the only one going to apply?"

"But… you don't even _like_ muggles," she screeched.

"I like them for 40 thousand galleons the first year and free room and board in Diagon Alley."

"You're. Doing. It. For. The. Money!?" The shock was fading and ferocious anger pushing its way forward.

"I'm doing it for the doorway," he said without shame. He must have watched Hermione turn various different shades of red before he spoke again, "It's going to put quite the damper on our relationship when I get the spot isn't?" he said with mock concern, "I'm sure after a few months I could get you some other position… I've always had a bit of a workplace fantasy."

Hermione turned on her heels and pounded away, it was all she could do to not crucio him right then and there.

"Hermione," he shouted after her. With all sound of joking gone from his voice she paused, her back still to him, unable to see his subtly perplexed face, "I want you to know," he said with a strange earnest, "that if it were anything else but this, _anything_ at all, I would let you have it. But…" he gave up when she continued walking again and disappeared around the corner.

… … …

That night was the hardest. Hermione had never been one for dramatics, but she nearly destroyed her room throwing books and slamming desk drawers.

She was certain Draco would have his Daddy buy the spot for him, and there was only one.

It was just so unfair. She wanted to scream out loud. Instead she collapsed onto her bed and sobbed. She wasn't usually a weeper, but her body and mind appeared unable to handle any more sharp and unexpected changes in emotion. Somewhere in the early hours of the morning she fell asleep.

The next day, she found a glimmer of hope. She was able to write her essay for the application.

Ironically, it was Draco who inspired her.

She decided to work the muggle-born angle, expressing a tender knowledge of what it was like to be exposed to the overwhelming reality of magic, and wanting to be there for others as they experienced it for the first time, guide them safely back to perimeters their minds could handle. It was beautiful, honest, relevant, personal, almost enough to make you cry, but lightening up just enough to not be manipulative or sappy.

Draco may end up paying the committee off, but she was going to make damn sure they felt like the sellouts they were, knowing very well that the position should be hers and never able to forget it.

And still… a small, quiet part of her foolishly hoped that maybe the words she wrote would be more valuable to them then money… That she would still get it…

… … …

The week could have been much worse, but that didn't mean it still wasn't awful. She managed all her duties and checks while successfully avoiding him. She got some other reading done and finished Flitwick's essay, but only to be assigned three more! She also sent out her application…

But every night she dreamed about him. Shameful, dirty dreams. She was offended by her own imagination.

She was beyond trying everything she knew, she had tried everything there was to offer from the library. She even tried the restricted section, convinced that's what he used in the first place. She had some Ambergris put out on the Astronomy tower, but it needed at least three nights of full moon light to become reactive, and being such a nasty, unethical ingredient -"those poor whales…"- if it hadn't already been harvested and in the potion stores she wondered if she'd have it in her to use it.

At this point yes, she was that disturbed about still suffering the effects of his potion. It was changing her, she would recollect on all the past "interactions" between Malfoy's gang and her own, finding her, Harry and Ron equally to blame. If she didn't figure things out quickly, she feared losing all her perceptions, all her loyalties… She was downtrodden and there was a constant heaviness in her chest.

She glided through the classroom, monitoring a study hall like a ghost, feeling an unsettling void in her life.

The sickest part was that she was grateful. Being too exhausted to crave him was much better than being uncontrollably randy for him. It was odd to her though, that when she wasn't hurtling banter back and forth while entering or exiting her room or fantasizing about him in her bed at night, she was sad…

"It's because I'm not going to get the internship," she hypothesized, depressed, "and because I can't figure out how to rid his _poison_ from my system!" she seethed.

She thought about the instant he poured it down her throat. It burned, but not enough to be unpleasant, and it tingled. Made her warm, relaxed, ever so slightly altered. And yet, there was something eerily familiar about it, like an ingredient she could pinpoint, reverse engineer. It was on the tip of her tongue, but she just couldn't name it.

"But at least I haven't given in!" she thought triumphantly, her only victory knowing he was suffering as much as she was. "Never thought I'd be thankful for Snape…" she remembered, the lucky intervention that helped her not fall even further from grace. To think she had been so close to kissing those lips!

…Those perfect lips… cradled in his arms, admiring his broad shoulders with the graze of her hands, being pulled into him by her hips, the feel of his hot tongue licking her collarbone…

Unable to limit her anger to just herself when she let her mind wander, she zoomed in on the whispers of the room.

Lavender and Parvati were head to head, chatting excitedly.

"Important?" she asked harshly, swooping in on them.

They gave her frightened looks, "Sorry Hermione," said Lavender, "It's just that Parvati just heard…" she trailed off, obviously unsure whether or not Hermione was still her friend or if she was above such things now that she was Head Girl

"What?" Hermione snapped, "Just what juicy piece of gossip is worth breaking the only rule of my study hall?"

Lavender glowered at her, then seemed to deliberate whether asking Hermione an apparently burning question was worth her possible wrath…

Her curiosity must have been too great because she dared delve, "Well, are Heads _really_ allowed to get hotel rooms in Hogsmeade?"

"What?" Hermione asked, unsure she heard correctly.

"Pansy is bragging to everyone how Draco and her are getting a room on the next trip…" blurted Parvati, unable to contain her excitement over such a rumor.

Peeves took one look at Hermione's expression as she marched down the hall, halted, turned in place and zoomed away.

Hermione ignored him as she continued her crusade straight to the library. Yes, Pansy was an inconsequential attention seeking skank. Yes, she was rotten with uncontrollable jealousy. Yes, she was going to thwart all his disgusting plans by going straight to the Headmaster. But first, she was going to let him have it.

She was rounding the corner to the library. She could tell by where his schoolbag was dropped he would be at the armchairs by the fireplace studying.

"MALF-" she started, then stopped shortly.

"No!" he insisted, anger in his voice, "I won't. How many times do I have to tell you?"

She furrowed her brow, took a step back, halfway hiding herself behind a shelf of books.

He was talking to the crackling fire when it finally clicked in her head that he was using the floo-network.

"Watch your tone, boy," barked the face in the flames. Lucius Malfoy. "Do you have any idea what an embarrassment you'll be to the family?"

"I'm not working at Borgin & Burkes," he said defiantly, "It's not my fault you told them to expect me this June."

"I didn't have to tell them! It's assumed. Every Malfoy man worth his name works there for a year, then invests his increase."

"His "_Increase_"? Is that what you call it? Robbing old ladies of their heirlooms and then turning around to sell them to elitist pureblood inbred hags for ten times as much? Making "business connections" with all the right archaic dark wizards and tyrannical families? _That's_ how you want me to get my start in life?"

"Too good for it are you? Think you'll free load off your parents then?"

"I won't have to free load, I already told you, I've budgeted out my income from the D.O.M. to last me to a permanent position, it'll be tight but I think I'll be able to make it wo-"

"Malfoys _lobby_ to the Ministry, Draco," uttered his Father, "They work for _us_, not the other way around!"

"I've already turned in my application," Draco confessed quietly.

Lucius's face was terrifying. "And if you don't get the spot?" he harassed.

Draco shrugged. "I still won't go to Borgin & Burkes," he testified.

"I'll tell you where you'll go," screamed his Father, "To the bloody streets, you hear me? You're not welcome back in this house. Your Trust Fund Charm? I'm unbinding it as we speak! Good luck you ungrateful little shit, you're going to need it."

Lucius's image vanished but Draco continued to stare into the fire, "Good bye then," he whispered.

He turned around and saw Hermione, half hiding.

He smiled, but not his usual happy, mischievous smile, it was small and weak. No witty greeting or dirty double entendre. He just sighed deeply at her, "Not tonight, okay?"

… … …


	3. Part Three

Since the trip to Hogsmeade was over a week away, and Draco was assigned just as many essays as she was, she decided to hold off on the whole hotel room rumor for awhile.

However, it still frustrated her that she only once saw him spread out at a table to work!

She didn't know how he managed when the grip she had regained on her own concentration started to slip once more. Finding out she was competing with Draco for the internship, having that whole new fiery reason to hate him, gave her the focus she needed. But the fire was dying out. She did not know why and she was starting to panic again. She'd sit down to work and never fail to be reminded of Draco somehow. She was baffled by the magic she was under and how it worked.

But Draco remained unchanged. Every day he showered her with obscene compliments and every night there was an invitation. He made her feel like an addict trying for her life to stay clean.

Never once did she mention his Father, which is probably why he attempted to offer the same courtesy of pretending he didn't see something he clearly did, when she came into the library late one night, obviously about to cry.

"Hey Granger, just wanted to let you know I'm going to go for a little stroll around the lake in case you wanted to-" he stopped at the sight of her. She looked miserable.

"Oh, I'll just-" he stammered, looking for the least awkward exit.

It was Snape's assignment that finally sent her over the edge. And when she went to him with a question about it he treated her as usual.

"He told me he didn't care if I wasn't taking my assignments seriously" she blurted out quickly, as if desperate to say it before she started sobbing, "but that he _did_ care that I was wasting his time and not to bother him anymore."

"What?" Draco gaped, shocked it was even possible for anyone to think Hermione didn't take her assignments seriously, "Why would he say that?"

"I asked him where I could find Abyssinian Shrivelfig this time of year and he just stared at me like I'm _an idiot_," she sniffled pitifully, rubbing her lips together to keep them from quivering.

"But Abyssinian Shrivelfig is from our Herbology essay question…" Draco said.

"I know!" she cried, "I mean I _did_ know that, I just got them mixed up, I thought I had to brew-"

"Shrinking Solution," he said, understanding her mistake, "No, no that's not until _next _terms Potion's essay. You need to not read ahead so much, you're overwhelming yourself."

"But I always read ahead," she said, "It's never been a problem before; I just can't keep my head straight anymore…"

"Granger…" Draco started, "I mean, when it comes to Potions, you know I could always hel-"

"Oh what am I doing whining to you about it!" she snapped, "I can't believe I'm practically crying! How much more pathetic can I become?" she groaned and turned away from him toward the entrance to her room, "I need to go do homework," she said dismissively.

Hermione couldn't be sure how much time had passed when the littlest house-elf she had ever seen apparated next to her desk, but it couldn't have been long. Her face was blocked by a large square gift-box adorned with a huge gold bow.

"Miss Granger," she squeaked.

"Oh my goodness," cried Hermione, jumping up out of her chair, "Here, let me help you."

"_No!_" shrieked the house-elf, shocking Hermione and clutching the box that was way too big for her tightly, "Minney has not had _one single task_since the school year started, please, please, let Minney present the Head Girl with her delivery!"

"O-okay," agreed Hermione, a little alarmed,

"Minney presents the Head Girl, Miss Granger, with a delivery."

"Thank you," she said, taking the surprisingly heavy box. "Minney is it?"

"What has Minney done, Miss Granger, to upset you?" the elf blurted out.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked.

"Minney was so proud to be chosen as the Elf to personally serve the Head Girl, to aid her in any way, to help her bring greatness to Hogwart's, and then she is told not to serve her, that Miss would be upset with her, that she must not be seen and clean in secret and offer no additional service. Minney has never felt such sorrow!"

"You've been cleaning?" gaped Hermione, too distracted to even notice.

The elf's eyes immediately filled with tears, the corners of her mouth practically reaching the floor.

"Because it looks amazing," she added quickly, stopping the elf. It was true now that she thought about it; her bed was always made and her rubbish bin emptied, she had just been too distracted by her work and Draco to notice.

"Who told you it would upset me to see you?" she asked, wondering how Harry or Ron managed such a feat behind her back, and they must've gotten to her quickly too...

"Head Boy Mister Malfoy," she said bitterly, "He stopped me from the welcoming tradition before you even arrived."

Hermione's mouth dropped.

"But Minney has forgiven him of this atrocity now that he has trusted Minney with the delivery of his gift."

Hermione had to sit back down. Draco? Draco knew she'd feel awful about having her very own house-elf…

"Minney will leave Miss Granger to her studies now and wishes her a good night." And then the elf was gone.

Hermione stared at the box. Better just to face it head on. She ripped it open with a bit too much excitement, gifts from Malfoy should _not_ excite her, so she slowed down to lift off the lid.

At first, when she saw it filled to the brim with _gold and red tinsel_ she wanted to smack it across the room and into the wall.

"_Hilarious_," she thought sarcastically.

But then, through gritted teeth, she remembered it was heavy and dug into it.

She pulled out a marble bowl, ancient and beautiful. A Pensieve. There was a folded note in it.

_"I'm the only thing that can get you all hot and bothered, got it? -Draco"_

Hermione separated all her thoughts and assignments with the Pensieve, and finished all her essays that night.

… … …

"What?!" barked Pansy.

"That's so unfair!" added Blaise.

Hermione was trying so hard not to smile. It was satisfying enough to be the one to discover them and turn them in, but she had no idea she would be allowed to survey the very informal disciplinary hearing.

"That's enough from you," answered Flitwick, "Someone could've been killed."

"But no one _w_as. Snape will never allow such an unbalanced punishment," insisted Pansy snobbishly.

Flitwick cast her a severe look, "_Professor_ Snape is the one who suggested it," he seethed, waving a folded letter in her face and her expression rotted. Hermione was certain she expected Draco to have intervened before it even got to Snape.

"And now if you'd ever like to _earn back_your Hogsmeade privileges," the little Charms teacher pressed on, "I suggest you show your teachers proper respect. Not to _mention_ your fellow classmates. Honestly, encouraging first years to touch the trunk of the Whopping Willow…" he trailed off muttering in disgust.

"Galloping Goblins I had forgotten how freezing it is down here," he remarked. He was quite an odd person to see down in the dungeons, so out of his element, "Oh good, here comes Head Boy."

"He's fine," Draco told Flitwick, "No breaks, just bruises. Madam Pomfrey sent him back to his house."

"What fortunate news," Flitwick said with relief, "You two should be grateful! I expect your letters of apology by tomorrow evening," he turned to address Draco specifically, "Mr. Malfoy please see to collecting them. I hope this is the last of events such as these. Thank you again for your keen eye Ms. Granger, and all your help. Good night to you all," he huffed, wrapping himself in his cloak and hurrying away.

Pansy smiled smugly at Draco with assurance and then muttered confidently to Blaise, "At least we don't have to do the stupid letter."

Hermione was surprised at the instant urge of "Oh YES you do" that she wanted to slam in her face. She wasn't usually such a spiteful person. She knew her pleasure from the situation only came from her deep dislike and jealousy of Pansy and the spoiling of her plans she had been telling everyone in school about. But shouldn't her banishment from Hogsmeade trips be enough? Of course Draco would let them blow off the apology letters, that was so predictable it wasn't even worth a reaction…

But to Hermione's utter surprise, Draco was shaking his head, frowning at her, "Do you have any idea how much homework I have?" he thundered, "I don't have time to be running all over the castle, to Snape, to the infirmary, to the Headmaster's, to here! All because of your daft little shenanigans? You're going to write the letter, and you can apologize for wasting my time while you're at it! -and Hermione's!"

Something flared inside of Hermione. He just considered her. Not only considered her, but included her in a sentence that spoke of her as equal. In front of Slytherins. By her _first name_. Did he realize _all_ of the mistakes he'd just made?

It didn't appear so. He turned around in a huff and was stalking away.

"But Hogsmeade?" Pansy cried out desperately.

"Get bloody over it," he yelled over his shoulder, "I've known for days I can't go to Hogsmeade, too much work to do! But do you see me crying about it?!"

He hadn't ever planned on going? But what about the hotel room rumor? Hermione watched Pansy turn bright red as Blaise gave her a laughing sneer that all but said she was caught red-handed making it all up.

Hermione didn't even bother to try not to smile.

… … …

"Please stop Ron," Hermione said when Ron looked at his watch for the third time, "You're making me nervous."

"Sorry, I just thought it'd come by now."

"Me too," she agreed reluctantly.

Harry was sitting on the stone wall huffing out clouds of breath and watching them fade, twirling his broom. They had been in the Owlery for over half an hour and the autumn weather was taking its toll.

"Oh let's just go then," she sighed, realizing all her bones were stiff from the cold, "I can get it at breakfast tomorrow."

Ron scoffed, rising to his feet, "You sure? Honestly I'm afraid you'll give yourself a heart attack before then."

"Sod off Ron! Just because you've never worked your arse off for anything important-"

"Hermione, an owl!" Harry spotted, pointing.

"Really?" she squeaked, rushing to the ledge.

Her shoulders dropped to the floor. She could tell, even with it still yards away, it was black.

"That's Draco's Owl," she mumbled.

The owl came fluttering to a halt on the ledge where they all clung. He looked confused when he saw that none of the humans watching him expectantly to arrive were his owner. He gave a curt hoot and a dirty look that only an owl of a Malfoy could and flew away up to the beams with the other owls, irritated.

"The seal! Malfoy's letter had a Ministry seal!" Hermione had noticed excitedly.

"So?" asked Ron, under the impression they were finally going to go inside where it was warm.

"So then Hermione's answer should be coming too," Harry answered for her, wise enough by now to limit the amount they had to say to each other when they were both so obviously in tense moods.

But Hermione's didn't come. Not after five minutes. Not after ten minutes. Not after twenty.

Hermione thought bitterly of how spoiled Draco was, having his own owl, one who could go and collect important letters for him. Meanwhile Hermione had to wait for a Ministry Owl, to whom she would not be a priority.

"Harry…" Hermione asked slowly, realizing how much she adored him, and his normally annoying, but today glorious, habit of bringing his broom with him wherever he went that wasn't class, "Could you help me catch that owl?"

… … …

Separating the owl from the letter was already a crime in itself. But Hermione could not bring herself to open it. She had to find Malfoy. If it said "Congratulations", then she would know she didn't get it. But if it was a rejection… well then the spot could still be hers…

Her hands were shaking by the time she reached the library. Her legs were like lead, cold and tired from the long, long week and nervous. So nervous. She made her way toward the northwest corner and ran right into him as he emerged from an aisle.

"Ouch!" she cried, dropping the letter.

"Granger," Draco reprimanded, rubbing his forehead, "That's not how sex works. When done properly we'd both need to be nak-"'

"Your letter," she blurted, pointing a shaking finger, "From the Ministry."

All humor left his face. He reached down and snatched it up quickly.

There was a slight shake to his hand as well, and Hermione heard him gulp.

He was practically as wrecked about it as she was, she realized.

He began ripping it at the seal right then and there among the shelves of books and Hermione's heart pounded like a hammer. She immediately regretted rushing the letter to Draco. She realized in a frantic panic that she wasn't prepared for whichever status it read.

But it was too late. Draco already had the paper unrolled. He was as blank as she was petrified as his eyes moved from left to right.

Oh God.

How would she feel if he got it?

How would she feel if he didn't…?

The seconds ticked like years, her stomach more hollow with each. She did _not_want to know.

But his face finally cracked.

The most joyful, vindicated smile erupted across his mouth and he exhaled a strangling, shuddering breath of elation. He glowed with relief.

In the very next instant his smile vanished and he locked his eyes onto hers, "Hermione, I-" he started consolingly.

But then in a blink he was staggering backwards, his words muffled into ceasing by Hermione's mouth. She had thrown herself onto him, her arms wrapped around his neck like a boa constrictor, eyes closed tight, crushing his lips with hers.

Draco instinctually took the attacking Hermione in his arms despite his surprise. He did not fight her, but stood perfectly still and moldable, his lips slowly but surely responding.

Only after having no choice did she let them break away for a gasp of air.

Finally, forehead pressed firmly to forehead, she uttered a desperate command against his mouth, "_Don't speak_," then she kissed him ferociously again.

"Please **-** don't _-_ say **-** anything," she managed in between each puckering engulfment of his lips.

"I don't want to talk about it," she whispered more in frantic explanation, then took his head in her hands and slid her tongue into his mouth as much as she could, rubbing edaciously.

"Please," she pleaded, her hands gripping his jaw and cheeks, "I can't deal with that right now," and she swept his mouth with her tongue once more, "It's too much," she managed at their next break in connection.

Another long, crushing kiss, then the snapping strain of their release, she begged, "_Distract_ me… _please_."

Now it was Draco who held her face in his hands, looking her directly in her crazed eyes, "I can do that," he insisted intensely.

"Then do it," she whispered.

His tongue plunged deep in her mouth, and she felt her knees give out. It was no matter because he had her entire body held against him tightly. He pulled her down into the aisle he had previously been trying to exit, crashing both of them into the shelf.

Neither seemed to notice or care, their mouths were hungrily devouring the other's, their hands clawing fistfuls of hair.

Draco miraculously managed to bumper off of the shelf, collide into the other side and, with reluctance, removed one arm from around Hermione to clumsily reach for a thick, black, hardcover book, which he pulled the tip of. He then aimed for another book on the shelf below the first, but when he finally admitted he needed to turn his head to see, unleashing his hold on Hermione's lips for only an intended second, she immediately latched onto his neck instead causing him to stumble more than ever.

He groaned with pleasure, reaching with impatient anger for the third and last book in the secret series, more eager than he had ever been to get to his destination.

The brick wall at the end of the aisle dissolved away to reveal a spiral staircase escalating upwards, exactly like the Headmaster's office, exactly like Hermione's, only this one led to Draco's quarters.

Conjoined and fumbling he led her to the passageway. She had forgotten their chemistry, their perfect flow. As soon as she jumped, he knew to catch her and she wrapped her legs around him. She never dreamed she was capable of such suggestive actions, but in their heat, their magnetism, it felt perfectly natural, impossible not to do.

She felt his lean, hard body between her thighs, the ease in which he carried her to the moving stairs. Hugging her tightly to him, he brazenly grabbed her ass, rousing a wild animal in her. She more ravenously showered his neck with kisses and bites, hearing his hiss, feeling his muscles clench.

There was a moment, a moment where everything froze in time. She realized she had just been tossed onto his high, extravagant four-poster bed, sheeted in fine satin, identical to her room but in rival colors of green and silver and, in result, not nearly as bright even with all the flickering candles. There she was, alone with him in his room. It was then that the seriousness of the situation snatched her attention in a cruel, unrelenting grip.

She knew she was standing with her back at a cliff edge, a three-headed monster in front of her. The torment of the potion, the loss of the internship, and her own self-proclaimed convictions. All these things demanded her attention, they ordered she come forward and endure their wrath.

Draco crawled up around her, slowly pushing her back onto the bed. Then he loomed over her, hesitating.

The three headed-monster roared furiously.

Hermione reached up, cupping the back of his neck in her hand, and pulled him down for a deep, burning kiss.

In her mind she turned in place and swan dived off the cliff, the monster's tyrannical roar fading with every foot per second gravity claimed on her. Goodbye monster, hello free-fall. She literally felt the wind drop in her stomach as Draco enveloped her in his frantic passion. The torturous weight of the past days faded from her body, his touch and kiss were incomprehensibly better than her daydreams and fantasies.

She never fathomed her fingers could move so nimbly and so quickly. In between pulling off each other's jumpers and ripping off ties, they were undoing all their buttons.

She felt no embarrassment when she found herself in her skirt and bra. She was too distracted by Draco's own toplessness and had no control of pushing him over, intent on straddling him, her hands sliding up and down his entire torso, feeling each intricate rip of muscle on his porcelain stomach. She sprinkled his chest with soft kisses. Her movements and urges came so naturally, as if she was guided by some invisible force.

Draco ran his hands up the back of her thighs, grazing over her backside, caressing her back with his fingertips and so very quickly unclasped her bra that she barely registered the item sliding down her arms before Draco was savagely suckling her breasts, relishing them in his palms. She arched her back, encouraging more and more of his titillating attention. Each flick of his tongue was an explosion of sensations all over her body.

The stirring between her legs flooded her body with an urge to wiggle and shiver all over, she was grateful to have his body between her to release the sudden influx of energy, grinding her pelvis into his.

Draco roared his approval, tossing his head back, eyes closed tightly. He was fiddling his feet together, peeling off his shoes; Hermione heard them drop to the floor.

Then he flipped her over onto her back. Ever so quickly the crotch of her panties was whisked aside and a strong, determined finger slid into her.

They both moaned in surprised delight. It was better than the first time he had touched her like this, because she knew what wonderful feelings were in store. There was no shyness about the effect he had on her, she was certain he knew by now that he could snap his fingers and she would be soaking wet, and he already knew how her body would try to grab onto him, not let him leave. He did his amazing beckoning inside her. She felt pulled up toward the ceiling by her navel.

"Mmm yes," she whimpered, "You have no idea how long, how _badly,_ I've wanted you to touch me like this."

Draco was slowly kissing his way down her body, celebrating every step, his hands working independently of his mouth, inching closer together.

"And you have no idea how long I've been dying to _taste_ you," he huffed with triumphant relief, his hot breath tingling on her inner thigh.

Hermione was unprepared for what was coming next. Her knowledge was limited to what happened by the lakeside and she never imagined there was more pleasure to be had. Draco, pushing the hem of her skirt completely out of his way, dived ravenously into her sex.

Her breath was ripped from her lungs as she gasped, then shuddered, marveling at the feel of his hot, frenzied tongue.

It was unknown to her how long she laid there, paralyzed by the feeling of his adoring mouth. Her delicious, most private, flavor made him murmur, his lips vibrating against her. Hermione bucked uncontrollably. Something was building inside her, something wild and uncontrollable. She started breathing heavily, but he cruelly focused the very tip of his tongue onto her most sensitive point, intricately flicking back and forth. She yearned to buck more than ever but he pinned down her hips, increasing the pace, increasing the pressure.

She didn't hear her own scream, she didn't even know what she saw, if she even could see, because a shattering orgasm shot through her entire body. There were no thoughts, no words, no movement, just a prolonged moment of coursing ecstasy.

After her rigid body relaxed, she melted into his luxurious mattress, her delicate organs pulsing spasmodically. She was certain, for a brief second, that she could die, she was that satisfied. It was amazing how quickly her thoughts were able to turn to Draco. He needed to feel this.

He was lying down beside her, surprised when her hand glided to his belt buckle. He inhaled deeply and smiled as Hermione opened his pants and she gripped his swollen member, both remembering how rudely interrupted they had been last time. Well, that annoying Potter certainly couldn't throw water on them now, no one knowing they were alone together in his hidden room.

She squeezed softly, pumping up and down slowly. She was unsure but then encouraged by his shudder and moan of pleasure as he reached over and groped her breasts while she groped him.

"Hermione," he whispered idly, shifting and breathing loudly as she massaged his erection. Hermione marveled at the member with fascination, relearning every detail with her fingertips, causing him to shiver. Every inch of his entire body was beautiful…

As soon as the wicked image of how it would work, how it would feel, him penetrating her with this part of him, the echoes of her daydreams, she yearned for it violently. Her body screamed, despite its so recent gratification, for more, for this part of him.

"Draco," she whispered; something unheard of in her voice.

"What is it?" he asked, desperate to know why she was releasing her hold on him and laying back.

"Make love to me," she whispered.

Draco paused, licking his lips, drinking in the lovely sight of her, leaning back on the frivolous pillows of his bed, almost without clothes entirely, her breasts heaving gently and her eyes sparkling in the candlelight, just like the shining curls sprawled out around her angelic face.

He shoved any reason, any hesitation aside. He was upon her, kissing her deeply. He helped her slide down her skirt and panties, lifted up his own body on his capable arms, letting her hitch his own trousers and underwear down, shimmying the rest off.

Their naked bodies melted into each other's. Heat, silkiness, tingles exchanging. Every muscle that had ached so long with tense hunger to be near him relaxed with relief when his body weight pressed her down into his bed. She managed to part her knees, opening her thighs to him, her senses overloaded with anticipation.

"This is my first time," she whispered.

Draco smiled what she thought was a knowing smile, but at his words she understood it was in fact shy, "Mine too," he whispered.

Hermione's mouth shaped into a surprised oh…

"Well, with _this_ part," he insisted softly.

A tidal wave of euphoria washed through her. Knowing he was as new and pure as she was, that she wasn't sharing him with anyone, made Hermione all the more certain she never stood a chance in resisting any of this. Hermione gripped his shoulders and he laid down on top of her.

A sharp intake of air was all she was capable of when he entered her. She had no words to describe the rolling, spreading, intense reactions of her body as he glided into her glistening softness, spreading apart barriers as smoothly and sensitively as he could.

He trembled on top of her. A long moan escaped from deep within her and her face was screwed up tight.

"Are you alright?" he whispered into her ear.

"Yes," she insisted intensely. She had been so ready for him, so lubricated, so trusting, her virginity passed away with sweet surrender, the only discomfort was the mandatory physical ripping all young lovers sacrificed, which was immediately compensated for, fleeting and miniscule in comparison to all other wonders of the moment…

"Does it feel good?" she whispered.

"Good?" he repeated incredulously, "Hermione it's…" but he could not think of a word.

"More," Hermione half suggested, half ordered. Her body demanded it.

He shuddered with delight, then began sliding himself out. And then more in. Then more out. Then even further in. Out then in, out then in. Her body responded to his rhythm perfectly. They rode together, writhing and gliding in unison. Hermione only encouraged Draco to delve deeper, in awe at the limits of her own body.

Soon, they could not keep in their sounds of pleasure, their sex was rocking the wood framed bed into the wall, the mattress protesting each thrust, but nothing could distract them. Hermione was torn, was there more pleasure in his manhood as her insides were ignited with pressure and friction? Or in the expression on his face as he stared into her eyes while he did it?

Draco himself seemed torn between taking his time and hurrying before he awoke from a dream. Something about the way he laid on top of her -protectively, defensively- was like a predator feasting on prey, worried a competitor could appear at any moment to try to steal his winnings.

Increasingly, she was ridden harder, clinging to him tightly, her fingernails pressed into his shoulders. Like with his tongue, pressure was building, only this time deeper, more in the very core of her. It mounted like a river crashing into a dam.

She could not bottle her need to cry out before it even happened, the seconds leading up to the actual explosion too intensely pleasurable to be contained, for when the actual orgasm came, she could make no noise, but only an airless silent scream as her body arched and her insides quaked around his presence.

Draco, unable to keep completely hidden his pride and relief that he had made her come, relaxed himself and, in doing so, no longer inhibited his own orgasm.

It was what hurt the most, how deep he plunged into her then. But Hermione was honored to endure it when she saw the expression on his face, felt the shaking of his body, heard the sound of utter satisfaction in his moan and the intimate exchange as he burst inside her.

He fell, all muscles limp with exhaustion. After experiencing that, what else would they ever want to do? His head laid resting on Hermione's softly panting bosom. She stroked his hair, still in her own state of stupor. They could feel the other's breath, sweat, heartbeats. Sleep came so softly and stilly neither seemed to notice.

... ... ...

She slept peacefully for a while. What a blessing it was, having not truly rested since she had returned to school. It wasn't yet day, the room only alit by moonlight. Draco had an arm under her, she was nestled into his side, nosing his neck.

He must have woken when she slipped away and turned her back to him. He sensed her distress.

He reached for her; she felt gentle fingertips stroke her naked back. She pulled sheets nearer to her chin, a lame attempt of modesty.

"Hermione," he whispered, sleep still obvious in his voice and reluctant questioning in his tone.

She didn't answer right away. But though she was silent, she was not upset. She was determined.

It was time to face what was really going on, and she needed Draco to understand, fully, what he had done.

Her thoughts turned end over end in her mind; she was straining for the right words…

She sat up and turned, halfway facing him. He sat up, awake now and ready to respond.

"Here's the thing, Malfoy," she attempted to start, "love potions… they really are a joke. And so stupidly named. The results aren't loving, they're lascivious or conquering. They can make someone lustful or obsessed, sure, mimic infatuation, but it never lasts, because it's not real."

Draco had started to smirk condescendingly at her, but what did she care? Of course he'd tease her till the bitter end, but she would get this out.

"The official school of thought is true emotion _cannot_ be bottled, only imitated," she went on, "But yours…" She sighed, where could she even begin?

"It didn't just make me want you," she finally blurted out, "It is so much more than your sex…"

He looked like he was going to go for a flirty joke, and she was blushing herself, but she needed focus, "Draco, I really, _really_ did not like you," she confessed bluntly.

His raised his eyebrows, feigning to be shocked and offended, but he was clearly amused.

"I hated everything about you," she stressed, hoping he would start to take her seriously, "and I had decided right after meeting you that I always would. You were hopeless. And nothing anyone said or did was going to change that. But now… Now? It's like you turned on a light in my mind. I see you in a completely different way."

Draco's brows lowered, his face softening.

"I see that you really are brilliant, and that you're actually capable of being nice, sweet even. Thoughtful and generous… I mean, a Pensieve? I've always wanted one and then you actually… so considerate… and my house-elf…" she saw herself trailing, "You _do_ pay attention," she asserted, trying to drive back around to her point, "But you're careful who you're kind to," she qualified, "you're too ambitious to risk wasting time on people who won't benefit you. Yes, that may be a fault… but it's so obviously a defense mechanism, and _no one_is perfect, and I certainly am the last person who can hold ambition against you, I see this now."

Draco slowly opened his mouth to speak but Hermione silenced him with a finger, needing to lay it all out while she had the nerve, while she had his attention.

"And I see now that I wasn't just jealous of Pansy, I was angry you'd sell yourself so short, hurt by the idea that you would waste your time on someone who didn't like you for the right reasons. And I wanted to hex your Father's face off when I heard the way he speaks to you. The way he tries to control you. And when you got your acceptance letter, I wasn't ready to realize it yet, but… I was so _happy_ for you, so _proud_of you… I couldn't believe it."

She paused, certain this would be surprising news, and it was to her after all. But having already been interrupted once, Draco gave her an expectant, yet patient, look, inviting her to finish.

"I can't believe how much success I hope you have, how happy I want you to be …" she was shaking her head as she continued, "Draco, I'm in love with you."

She cast her eyes downward, determined not to see his expression. But it was unfair she should have to be scared of how he'd react, it was his fault she felt this way after all! Didn't he comprehend the gravity of what he had created?

"Don't you _see_?" she emphasized desperately, "You've brewed _real_ love. To make me look passed our history, all your dark flaws and see someone else… I don't know how you did it, but you did," she murmured quietly, an aching in her heart.

She was still refusing to look at him, busying her hands feebly in the ruffles of the sheets when he finally spoke.

"Such sweet words in such a bitter tone," he half asked, half observed.

So he had been listening. That was something. But did he get it?

"I just hope…" her voice wavered. She had to pause. She wasn't going to get emotional.

"Obviously, I'm along for the ride," she restarted, trying to be casual, "I don't mind. How could I?" she half laughed, "I'm bewitched. …and I know I started this whole thing, when I took that insane dare, but I just hope that when you grow tired of this, of me that is, be it by summer holiday, or Christmas, or even Halloween- hell, if you're done with me now that we've… that we've had sex…," discomfort crept back into her voice, "Well I just hope that once you get bored, whenever that may be, that you'd have the decency to give me the antidote. So it won't… because you've made me _actually_ care… I wouldn't be able to… …So that it doesn't hurt," she finally confessed.

With all her strength she peeked up at him. He was expressionless, ghostly angelic.

She cast her eyes back to her hands, "Because if these last few days are any indication of how hard it is, if you dump me without undoing your potion, especially now that we've... well I would probably castrate you, muggle style, and feed your balls to Hagrid's dog."

He laughed in surprise and gratefully she felt a little less awkward.

"Well at least you're honest," he said.

"I'm a big believer in honesty," Hermione replied, trying to justify the humiliation she just put herself through.

"Are you?" he asked, "I'm becoming more and more a fan of it myself."

Hermione tried to read him, but came up unsure.

"Maybe you'll answer me this honestly," he tested. Despite all she had just revealed he was calm and relaxed and it surprisingly eased her.

"If I were to have an antidote," he asked, "hypothetically speaking of course, and gave it to you now… would you go back to hating- I mean, "really, _really," _not liking me?"

Hermione hesitated, "…No," she finally decided.

"Why not? I bewitched you for Merlin's sake."

"I bewitched you first," she defended.

"You're avoiding the question," he insisted.

Hermione sighed, "I don't think I could," she confessed, "Granted, I wouldn't act like such a randy lunatic any longer, and I'd still think you were an egotistical pompous jerk, because you _are_. But…No, I wouldn't hate you like I used to, not since everything so beautiful and lovely about you has become so illuminated."

Draco had a soft, confident smile. "And, once again, hypothetically, what if there was no antidote and I never "get bored" with you? What then?"

"You mean…" she giggled at the absurdity of her own question before she could even ask it, "If we continued on like _this_?" she gestured at the both of them, naked and barely covered by bed clothes, "as a couple? You mean with our lives? Our friends?"

"Yes."

"Well I would just have to deal with it." she assessed plainly, "What choice does one have when they are in love? It's kind of like you said, I don't really care about that right now."

There was a long pause. "Do you remember what else I said?"

"You'll have to be more specific Draco," she pressed jokingly, growing more comfortable in the conversation than she ever dreamed possible, "You run your mouth quite a bit."

He sneered characteristically, "About being fond of you?"

"Ah yes, you're 'quite fond of' me, if I remember right."

"That's it," he said, "Well… that's not exactly on par with this whole honesty thing we both like so much."

"No?" she asked.

"No," he said, "It's more like I am in love with you too and couldn't be happier that there is not a single drop of antidote in existence."

Heat spread throughout Hermione's chest, a warm blanketing heat. He reached to pull her into him and she made no fight. She kissed his lips three eager times then nestled her face into his chest while he held her. She never dared imagine it, but now that it had happened, and it had happened _so fast_, it was exactly the outcome she desperately hoped for, like her life depended on it. Him really wanting her too.

She sighed deeply. Because it was going to be hard, and with an unheard of potion like the one she was under who knew what could happen, but it was nothing the two of them couldn't handle, she was sure. She would worry about that when she needed to. All she wanted to do currently was revel in the euphoric happiness that coursed through her so completely, the tingle of her skin where she touched Draco. She was ready to drift off to sleep again.

"I love you," Draco reiterated softly.

"I love you too," she said back just as soft. And it was so easy to say. And she enjoyed saying it without shame. She could love the horrible bastard all she wanted and not feel wrong about it, it was the magic's fault after all, what could she possibly do about it?

"You're mine now," he observed, wrapping her even tighter in his arms.

"I am," she agreed, snuggling deeper into his chest.

He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her for a long moment before speaking again, "There is one other pesky bit of honesty, love," he whispered, petting her hair.

"Hmmm?" she hummed sleepily, already feeling so safe and content in his embrace that she could drift right off to dreamland…

"It's no big deal really," he said nonchalantly, "Just that there never was any love potion. All I gave you was a shot of whiskey I traded off of some little first year."

... End ...


End file.
